Marauders First Year: Sirius Black and the Family Con
by FrostFlamer
Summary: James Potter is a stuck up little prat no one can stand. Severus Snape is a gloomy, troubled half blood who doesn't belong. Remus Lupin is a scarred enigma with strange behavior. Peter Pettigrew is a prideful victim who refuses to ask for help. Sirius Black has made it his mission to bring them all together and keep his true house from his family at the same time. Marauder Era AU
1. Glad to Be a Black

******Disclaimer (for this chapter and all following): Harry Potter is not mine; it's JK Rowling's.**

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**Chapter One: Glad to Be a Black**

When I was six, my brother became terribly, awfully sick. Our parents brought in all the healers money could buy from all over the world—and then he was cured.

That was the first time I was glad I was a Black, because Blacks had old money and the pride to make sure that not one of them was struck down by a mere sickness.

"'M gonna miss you, Reggie." I mutter, hugging my younger brother tightly to me. "I'll write you lots of letters and send you lots of pictures and—and—and I'll send you some furniture from the common room!"

Regulus laughs, his voice slightly muffled by my robes, and says, "You better, Siri. Don't get into too much trouble, okay? I don't want Mum to kill you. Promise me, okay?"

"I pinkie promise," I say solemnly, bending down to link our pinkies and then press our thumbs together. I straighten up and turn to face our parents, dropping into a low bow as soon as I do so. "Goodbye Mother, goodbye Father. I'll see you at Christmas."

Walburga, my mum, smiles one of her rare smiles—the thin-lipped ones that show no emotion—and comes forward to hug me, lightly pulling my shoulders toward her. "Study hard and make Slytherin proud."

"I will make my house proud," I say noncommittally, hoping she doesn't notice my wording. "I swear upon the Black family's honour."

Orion holds out his hand for me to shake, his face expressionless as always. "Be good, son."

"When is Narcissa arriving?" I ask curiously. My cousin is in her fourth year, which is good in the sense that I'd only have to suffer her for four years, but bad in the sense that I'd only be able to enjoy her company for four years. She isn't my favourite cousin, but she isn't my most hated, either, and we get on decently for most of the time. My favourite cousin, Narcissa's older sister Andromeda, graduated the year before as top of her class and Head Girl to boot.

My father blinks. "Narcissa arrived earlier. As a Prefect, she has a duty to help the students." A look of disgust crosses his face. "Even Mudbloods. Walburga, let us be off."

Without another word, they depart, leaving me alone in the station. I look around, my eyes almost immediately landing on the door leading to inside the train. "The Hogwarts Express," I breathe out loud, almost reverently. A large grin crosses my face. Wasting no time, I haul my trunk up the stairs and into the closest compartment, not waiting to see if there is anyone inside.

A moment later, I run out screaming, making loud retching sounds, as a very flustered Narcissa Black sends a shocking spell after me. Once I've gotten a safe distance from his cousin, I turn around and say reproachfully, "Cissa! Lucius Malfoy, really? You could do better."

Lucius Malfoy looks outraged, but seems pacified when Narcissa whispers something into his ear before yelling, "Sirius, I told you not to call me that!"

"Cissa Cissa Cissa Cissa!" I taunt before fleeing into the nearest compartment.

This one is empty but for a very skinny, twitchy blonde-haired blue-eyed boy. "Hello," he chirps, quite cheerful looking. "Are you a first year too?"

I, very quickly evaluating the blond boy, decide he's insane. I also decide that I'm okay with insane, and sit down across from him. "Sirius Black." I say, holding my hand out.

He takes it, shaking vigorously. "Peter Pettigrew."

I recognize the last name and grin. "Are we cousins?"

He smiles back at me, and I decide I've found a kindred spirit in Peter. "Probably. Keeping the bloodline pure with intermarrying and all that rot—so here's to cousinliness!" Laughing, he raises an imaginary glass.

"To cousinliness!" I reply, tapping an imaginary glass against his and drinking. "And to being in the same house!"

"Indeed," Peter says, smiling so hard it looks like his face will split. After a while, they settle down, although the train hasn't started moving yet. "So," he says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "What house are you hoping to get into? Personally, I'm hoping for Gryffindor."

I sigh. "My parents will murder me if I'm in any house but Slytherin. Not even Ravenclaw will be enough for them, and frankly, I'm not wise or brainy or whatever enough to get into Ravenclaw. And Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are... Um. If you're from a Dark pureblood family, then how come you want to get into Gryffindor?" The words 'and how are you going to survive' go unspoken, but they both hear it anyways.

"Stupid," Peter scoffs. "I'm not going to tell my parents that I got into Gryffindor. My branch of the family's been living in France for almost seventy years, and we only recently moved back. No one at school is going to tell them I'm not in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. And besides, I think it would be wonderful to be in a house of courage and honour and loyalty. Someplace I'd belong, you know?"

I'm impressed. "So you're going to con your family for seven years?"

"Essentially, yes." He brightens. "You should do it too! We can be rebel purebloods together!"

"Okay."

The word slips out even before I know what's happening, but I decide that I'm okay with that word and not going to take it back. And so we begin to plot how to conceal their true house from our families, not even noticing when a small sandy-haired boy stumbles in, tripping over too-long robes and dragging along a worn-down trunk behind him.

Staying silent, the boy sits down across from me and Peter (I had moved to sit on the same side as the latter in order to better plot) and opens up a book, silently reading. Twenty minutes later, when the train begins to move and Peter and I begin to flail in shock, our eyes land upon the skinny, shabby, _tall_ boy.

"Oh." Peter says, looking startled. "Have you been there this entire time?"

The boy looks up, amber eyes glinting in an amused sort of way. "Only most of it. When you go home, by the way, you should charm or glamour or transfigure your badge so it looks like a Slytherin one. And your tie, too, come to think of it."

I decide I like him, too, and immediately begin to say, "Or we could steal two of the Slytherin ones."

"Except we have to be thorough—our family's known for being quite paranoid, and I dunno about yours, Sirius, but my family is a snoopy, nosy lot." Peter says thoughtfully. "So we'd have to take more than a few, to put in our trunks and all that rubbish. Lupin's right, it would be easiest to charm or transfigure or whatever."

"Lupin?" I ask.

"That would be me. Remus Lupin." Says the tall boy. "And you are?"

"Sirius Black," says I. "and this is my something cousin something-removed, Peter Pettigrew."

"Something cousin something-removed?" the afore-mentioned says, looking curious.

"Well," he explains, "it would be different depending on whether we were counting from our mum's or dad's sides."

Remus nods, looking as if something had been clarified, and yet supremely disgusted at the same time. "Inbreeding." Ah. He must be a half-blood.

Peter and I nod solemnly. After a few seconds, though, Peter sits up and claps once. "Well, Remus Lupin, it seems that we will need your assistance in conning our family, for we, as scatter-brained as we are, would never have thought to disguise our Gryffindor robes. We shall expect your presence in Gryffindor so you may plan nefarious plots alongside us."

The sandy-haired boy looks very alarmed. "I beg your pardon?"

"You have to be in Gryffindor with us." He repeats very slowly, looking as if he thinks Remus is an idiot.

Remus splutters indignantly. "You—you can't just decide what house I'm going to be in."

I turn up my nose in a mock haughty way, crossing my arms. "I am a Black, Remus Lupin. There is nothing I cannot do."

And I, for the second time in my life, am glad to be a Black, because Blacks can do anything—even get into Gryffindor and keep it a secret.

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**So, I'm trying out a Marauder AU fic. Please, tell me your opinions!**

**Love? Like? Hate? Review!**

**~Frost, out.**


	2. Good Friends

**Okay, so it was a long wait. I apologize, but I got a new laptop and then had to move my files, and then I lost thi sone somehow... It was weird for a while. Uh, thank you guys for your patience!**

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**Chapter Two: Good Friends**

After a while, an old lady peeks into our compartment. "Would you like anything from the trolley, dearies?"

I glance at Remus, who's wearing robes slightly too big for him and has a worn, threadbare look to him, and then smile. "We'll have some of everything, thank you."

I pay for it and then gesture for the other two, who look quite shocked, to help themselves. They do, quite eagerly, and we have a grand time laughing and daring each other to try a particularly dangerously coloured Every Flavour Bean, and bragging to each other about cards we've gotten from the Chocolate Frogs.

All too soon, a prefect comes around checking to make sure everyone has their robes on. Probably because she is the closest prefect, Narcissa is the one to check my compartment. "Narcissa, can I talk to you in private?" I say, shifting uncomfortably as I stand up.

"Of course," she says. "Follow me."

We go back to the compartment she and Lucius had been in, and after waiting for my cousin to cast a few privacy spells, I blurt out, "I want to be in Gryffindor."

She recoils, a look of shock on her face. I barge on ahead, figuring that I had already done the hardest part. "I need you to not tell my parents. I know no one else will, because we Blacks are infamous for shooting the messenger, but I need you to swear you won't tell. I can keep it a secret for a good while, I think, as long as you don't tell."

"Sirius, I can't—"

"You _can_ and you know it. Please."

I don't know what convinces her in the end, but she agrees not to tell, and I'm satisfied with that. Narcissa is a lot of things, but she's not a liar. Well, not to me at least. (See, there was this incident when we were younger with some Veritaserum as a prank and her apparent allergy to one of the ingredients, and I was the first person to touch her afterwards—long story short, I can tell when she's lying when she says something. It's quite convenient, but sometimes not so much, especially at one of the family get-togethers when she tells Uncle Arcturus that his toupee is quite fetching and I can tell she actually means, "You have a rat sitting on your head. Please never allow me to see it again.")

"I'll see you... later, I suppose. Goodbye, cousin," she says, bending down to lightly kiss both of my cheeks.

"Goodbye," I echo hollowly. After she leaves, I go to find my friends—we are friends now, I think—and on my way run into a rather sallow-faced boy and a red-haired girl. They look like first years too.

"Hello, I'm Sirius Black," I declare, holding out my hand. "What are your names?"

The boy steps in front of the girl, ever so slightly, as if he thought that she was in danger from me.

"What do you want, _Black_?" he spits, looking wary.

Ah.

My family name is what's warning them off. "To be friends," I say in what I hope is a calm tone.

He sneers. "I know your kind, Black. You'll pretend to be my friend, then curse me as soon as my back is exposed."

I twitch. "Then you don't know _my kind_." I hiss. "I'm going to be the first Black in Gryffindor—you'll see!"

He scoffs. "Sure. That's about as likely as me being in—in—in Gryffindor too! Come on, Lily. Let's go." He grabs her hand and stalks away.

Under my breath, I huff, "Tou-chy." I turn to go back to the compartment with Remus and Peter, but someone—another first year—steps in my path. "What do you want?" I ask irritatedly.

"You're a Black?" he says with disgust.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. What's it to you?"

He sneers. "I'm not supposed to talk with _monsters_." He turns away, and I hurry back to my compartment, feeling annoyed.

Remus is reading when I come in, gnawing at a chocolate frog. It is then I notice—"Oi, Remus. Why do you have bandages on your wrist?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he replies nonchalantly. "The knife just slipped while I was chopping onions."

I stare at the cut. "Can't you heal it?"

"We didn't have the appropriate potions, and my parents didn't want to risk a spell."

I can sense he's uncomfortable with the topic, so I change it. "I think we're here!" I say.

Immediately, Peter zooms to the window. "I can see the castle!" he yells.

Unwillingly, I, too, am drawn to the window, practically melding my face to the window as I stare at the great stone castle. It had been described to me, of course, but never in my wildest dreams had it looked anything like—Next to me, Remus makes a strange sound as he stares at the castle, a sound somewhere between a prayer of thanks and plea for help.

"Oi," I nudge him. "You alright, mate?"

He nods very slowly as he continues to stare at the castle, a beatific smile spreading across his face like an infectious disease. (That's what my mum always calls it.) "Sirius Black," he says. "I don't believe I've ever been better."

I look at him, cocking my head to one side. "You're one odd bloke, Remus Lupin." I sling my arm over his shoulder as I turn to face the castle, determinedly ignoring his flinch as I do so. "I think we'll be good friends." I sling my arm around Peter, too, ignoring his too-skinny shoulders. "I think we all will."

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	3. Not For Everything

**Chapter Three: Not For Everything**

I don't know how long we stand there, crowded around that window, staring wide-eyed at the grand castle that will be our home for the next seven years. I don't know why we are standing there, ridiculous grins on our faces, pressing ourselves up against the glass as if our lives depend on it. I don't even know what we are looking for. Some sort of sign that, yes, we were going to live the best years of our lives there? A sign that said, yes, you will be successful?

I don't know.

I do know that I've found the best friends in the entire world, and I'm not letting them go.

Not for anything. Not for everything.

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**Short chapter, I know. That's why I'm posting it with chapter two.**

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	4. Snotty Potty and the Giant Squid

**Heyo! This chapter took a while, but it's pretty long, so I hope that makes up for it at least a bit. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Four: Snotty Potty and the Giant Squid**

A voice echoes through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

We are not prepared for this sudden voice. Remus, poor bloke, is startled so much that he stumbles and then smashes his head against the wall of the compartment, then is slammed into by myself, and then Peter falls onto us.

He terrifies me. Not him falling onto us, but the fact that he's so skinny and light—I don't even feel his weight falling on me. Regulus weighs a good bit more than he does, and Peter is at least seven centimeters than he is.

I grit my teeth and smile. If it's a bit forced, they don't notice or comment. "Well, chaps," I say, striding out of the compartment. "we're here."

I take a grand couple of steps, and then—THUNK.

I trip on something and fall on my face, hitting my left cheekbone and brow on the floor. Peter helps me up, somehow—he's a skinny little thing, where did he get that strength?—and Remus stands in front of us as if he is a human meatshield, glaring accusingly at a boy and saying, "Why would you trip him, you snotty little git?"

"Because he's _evil._" the boy scowls unrepentantly. "He's a Black. That whole family is Dark, did you know? And he's the heir to the family, so he's _extra_ evil. And," he looks horrified. "you're friends with him, so you must be evil too!"

Remus flinches, and stumbles back. The boy notices this, and presses on. "I'm right, aren't I? The whole lot of you are probably future murderers and Azkaban prisoners and Grindelwalds."

It's the boy who called me a monster earlier, and suddenly I find myself very, very irritated with him, for judging me even before he properly met me, for calling me a monster, and, most of all, for calling my friends evil monsters.

"What do you want, you git?" I demand, carefully positioning myself so I'm between him and Remus and Peter. "And why do you keep bothering me?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but then a cool hand sets itself upon my shoulder and he snaps it shut. I know who it is even before he speaks by the scent of pompous richness floating off of him. "Sirius," Lucius Abraxas Malfoy says in a low voice. "do not be so foolish as to waste your time on the likes of him." Raising his voice, he yells, "First years! All first years onboard, please head outside! First years!"

It is the first time I have ever felt grateful for his presence, and, as I look at him glaring at the boy and ushering along me and Remus and Peter, I have a feeling it won't be my last.

As soon as we are out of the train, I hear a deep, rumbly voice yelling, "Firs' years! Firs' years, this way!"

I can't see where it's coming from, but I follow the voice. Remus, who is taller than a good number of the other students, grabs Peter's and my shoulders and steers us towards a big, stocky man with a great bushy beard. It looks like it is eating his face, and Peter says just that, elbowing us vigorously as he does so. We stifle our laughter as much as we can, and don't even realize that he is saying something to us until he stops talking and everyone around us begins to shuffle forward.

Someone behind us urges us to move, and we do, following the others until we reach—

Remus, who's been standing protectively at our backs, stifles a sharp intake of breath as everyone stops and stares. It's a picture-perfect sight; the castle stands majestically behind the lake, the waning moon's light reflecting off of the water as a row of little rowboats without rows bob up and down on the shore. "Four ta a boa'," the man rumbles, trying to give a reassuring smile.

Peter, Remus and I stuff ourselves into one boat, leaving an open seat. There's one person left and all of the other boats are full.

"Here ya go," says the man, gently shoving the boy into our boat. He clambers into his own, and then I don't see how he starts the boats moving because I'm too busy disgustedly staring at the new boy. Well, he's not a new boy. He's the boy who tripped me earlier on the train. The boy who called me a monster. The boy who, I now realize, must be the heir to one of the Lightest, richest, pureblood families: the Potters, otherwise known as the Black family's main rival. I had glared hatefully at him from far away at the Ministry Galas and other social gatherings, and once laughed at him when he vomited on the Minister's secretary. "What's wrong, _Potter_?" I spit at him. "Couldn't find any of your friends to sit with?" I fake a gasp, bringing my hand up to my mouth. "Oh, pardon my mistake. I forgot that you have no friends to speak of."

Our families have been warring for centuries for fine control over the ministry and England. The Blacks, as a traditionally Dark family, stand for everything the Potters tried to push away—the pureblood heritage, culture, and traditions—they don't even teach their children Latin! Not to mention they have no appreciation for ettiquette; I was always taught that the easiest way to identify a Potter is by their messy black hair and generally rude attitudes.

So of course it comes as no surprise as Potter, who had been sullenly staring off to the side over the swirling waters over the lake, snaps his head in my direction, contorts his ugly mug into a snarl and then leaps at me, knocking me onto my back. Remus and Peter yelp and scramble to the sides, leaving me and Potter to grapple around the center of the little boat, bodily slamming ourselves every which way.

And then, of course, we knock ourselves too close to Remus and flip the boat over.

We resurface, spluttering and gulping in deep breaths of air and also a good quantity of water, flailing around in a desperate attempt to not drown in the black murkiness of the Black Lake. "This is your—splutter—fault!" I yell at Potter, barely keeping myself afloat.

He looks like he's about to yell something back, but then his eyes widen and he shrieks, "Something's got me! HEEE—"

He is sucked under the surface. All of the other first years, who have by now stopped moving, scream. I scream, too, and not for ice cream, mind you. The giant yells something that I am unable to hear but for select words. More specifically, these words: "giant squid", "first years", and "eat humans". So of course, I scream even louder and with even more desperation, especially when I feel something wrap around my ankle and—

I'm hoisted up into the air, upside-down, as are others in the same boat—pun half-intended.

"IS IT GOING TO EAT US?" says Potter, looking terrified.

"I HOPE NOT," I yell back. "NOT EVEN A GIANT SQUID DESERVES TO EAT SOMETHING AS NASTY AS YOU."

He snarls something unintelligible, and then we are unceremonially dropped into the dark, damp, creaking boat.

"We're alive," Remus says, looking stunned.

"We're alive," someone echoes. I'm not sure which one of us says it, but then the thought is wiped from my mind as Peter jumps on me—not that he does much damage, mind, but it's still quite shocking, especially since he weighs double now that his clothes are soaking—and then punches me, right across the face. It's a good, clean hit, and I take it without protesting, figuring I deserve it.

"Why would you tip us over like that?" Peter yells. He punches me again, this time in the nose.

I let out a small whimper of pain, and then a cold wind sweeps across the lake and we, in our wet clothes, instinctively draw together for warmth. Bushy beard looks like he's considering something, fingering his pink umbrella and staring at us. I try to squeeze out my hair, which has been completely ruined by the lake's water.

No use. My hair has officially been destroyed.

I glare at Potter, who glares at Peter. Ah. Peter must have done the punch-yell-punch thing with him, too.

A warm draft blows past us, and we all shiver in unison from the sudden temperature change. It's much warmer than it had been just a few moments ago, and for that I am glad. Then Remus rapidly shakes his head, spraying droplets of water everywhere. He has fairly long hair, almost as long as mine, but the sheer amount of water that comes from him is unbelievable. There must be a liter or two, at least.

"Good God," grumbles Potter. "What are you, a dog?"

Remus seems to freeze up. "Wh-what?" he says, laughing weakly. "A dog? N-no, that's ridiculous. I'm-I'm human. Not a dog."

I'm about to press, but then the boat jolts to a stop (when had it even started moving?) and then an air of excitement overcomes us. And when I say us, I mean the first years. (Yes, even Potter.)

The giant steps off of his boat and then booms, "Come on, let's move along now! Nice and neat, tha's it."

We all pile out of the boats.

I'm finally here. I'm at Hogwarts.

I smile bravely at the others, but the nervousness must have shown on my face because Peter nudges me a bit. "Hey, mate, you look constipated."

I laugh.

"That's better," he says, nodding.

Gryffindor, here we come.

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**So! The snotty little git who called Sirius a monster is none other than our very own Prongs!**

**I've gotten some reviews about James, and I've got to say-I love him to death, I really do, but as soon as I learned about his family background and Sirius's and then made up two of my own for Remus and Peter, I realized that they would have never gotten along at first.**

**Like? Love? Hate? Review!**

**~Frost, out**


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